


Falling

by SydneyFlaire



Series: Bayani Universe [23]
Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018)
Genre: Battle, Brotherhood, Burying, Death, Death at battle, Guilt, Regret, Sadness, War, gunfire, shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 05:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17136083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydneyFlaire/pseuds/SydneyFlaire
Summary: Among the sixty men who've come with General del Pilar during his last stand at Tirad Pass, only eight of them managed to survive. And his best friend and aidé-de-camp, Colonel Vicente Enriquez was one of them. Vicente knew that the reason he lived was to tell the tale. But it took him ten realizations before he finally snapped back to reality, and accept the truth.





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> The tenth one-shot as part of the #GoyoAngstStories.  
> You can also see my works on wattpad and fanfiction as "SydneyFlaire".  
> Follow me on twitter @JerseyLeigh for more updates.

_The counting undoubtly started with **ten...**_

There was the eerie howl in the wind when he first saw his friend walked away, leaving everything behind for him to watch out for.

He was losing hope. He knew that this was a lost battle ever since he saw those Americans with their rifles raised and aimed at them. It had been visible that their enemies' armaments were way superior to those of them, but there was no turning back now at this moment.

_Then, it dropped to **nine...**_

He watched the lieutenant and a soldier followed. He has every urge to come along, but he knew too well where he was needed. And it was here that he must remain.

A finger hooked on the trigger as his hands held his own rifle tightly made him shiver and woke up that even though this would be a lost battle, the strategic victory would be theirs as the main objective of this last stand of theirs wasn't to save their skin, but to protect other people.

_The lucky **eight**  who lived to tell the tale._

He knew that whosoever lived their lives in war will see themselves staring at the end of that respective line. Those who held a sword will meet the same end. But all he does was to save the innocent and fight for this land he loved.

Someone tapped him by the shoulder, causing him to turn to the pale-faced lieutenant.

_It started just thirty minutes before **seven.**_

A whisper on his ear that echoed after it was said. Like some atomic bomb that was dropped, causing too many others to murmur and gossip about.

His entire world stopped. Every strength and courage he has left his body. He leaned against the fortified wall as his hands shook in keeping a great hold of his rifle.

_Tangina naman,_  he cursed to himself.

_And the number they had that was once **six**  decad._

Soldiers scrambled upon having the conclusion of the lieutenant being present and the soldier back on their field. They scattered, running like some wild animals wanting to save their own skins from the predators that were closing around them.

His eyes flared in anger as he took his revolver and aimed it at those who dared to flee. He screamed, desperate, as if that would make everyone stop and snap back to fight another time. Even he was just making a fool of himself.

When his own hand was shaking and his finger was so hesitant on pulling the trigger, he knew that whatever morale was lost.

_Just **five**  hours since the clock started ticking._

He remembered their childhood.

Being neighbors, he looked up at him just as how they became playmates. He considered him as an older brother just as how he had his own.

But when things turned under way, and he was asked, "Paano namatay si Etong? Para alam ko kung paano ang mamatay para sa bayan.", he knew that such fates were already tied and predetermined before everything else.

_Two decades and a **four**  ended it all._

When among all else who could've been chosen, he was appointed as the aidé-de-camp. It was a great honor that swelled his heart.

He looked up at that beacon of light and hope among the youth. And he would always smile at how great that ray of gold was.

How affectionate his name was said every now and then. It had been the absolute proof of how much trust was thrusted onto him.

_The **three**  sites where the trenches had been made._

He grumbled as he walked away that night, "Alam ko rin ang putok ng baril."

Perhaps he was just too blinded not to see it right away, but now, he does. He has his own limitations, but this was what he considered as the tipping point.

Even compensations could've been made. He was still willing to do everything for him. Even the fight to death. That was why he had carefully chosen their men, despite asking for who were with them.

"Pare-pareho tayong naghirap papunta dito ni wala isang tinubuan sa inyo ng bayag?" he inquired, and with it all, he was proud to say that there had been men who would match the two of them who were so willing to do everything for their country.

At that moment, despite the fear, he was happy to make him proud.

**_Two_ ** _who've witnesed it themselves._

And yet... at the time that he was most needed... he wasn't there to be his guard.

His hands brushed through his cold body, him doing so just to close his lifeless eyes looking at the expanse of nothingness. The warmth of where a smile would be was just a mush of blood and exploded muscles and bones. But all that remained was a body that he buried himself.

He closed his eyes tightly, breathed in as if to calm himself, and his hands closed to tight fists. Silence ensued so loudly inside his skull with signs telling him that it was all over; and there was another day to fight for it.

He can't help wondering if it was acceptable to finally allow him to break loose from the chains of the world. Perhaps there was freedom with death, and it had given his friend the independence that could be compared to that of a mighty bird.

It might be the end for the two of them—endpoints so different from the other—but they were still in war.

And when you were in war, they said that there was no time for grief, for any mourning, and for regrets. That the dead stayed dead. That peace could be won in the contrast of killing to survive.

They said, on a battlefield... the heart stopped feeling, and the mind stopped remembering.

**_One_ ** _tragedy that wasn't supposed to be._

"Enteng... salamat."

**_Zero._ **

They were wrong.


End file.
